the banks o' doon—third version

    ye banks and braes o' bonie doon,

    how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?

    how can ye chant, ye little birds,

    and i sae weary fu' o' care!

    thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,

    that wantons thro' the flowering thorn:

    thou minds me o' departed joys,

    departed never to return.

    aft hae i rov'd by bonie doon,

    to see the rose and woodbine twine:

    and ilka bird sang o' its luve,

    and fondly sae did i o' mine;

    wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,

    fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!

    and may fause luver staw my rose,

    but ah! he left the thorn wi' me.